Band-Aids
by erinwithane
Summary: Jean and Mikasa have survived the beginning of the zombie apocalypse. However, in the midst of a supply raid, a swarm attacks their group, and with it brings the turn of Mikasa's worst nightmare. One-shot AU based off of a writing prompt.


**Summary:** _Surviving in the midst of the zombie apocalypse, Jean gets bit in the middle of a raid._

**Notes:** Part of fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment's shipper saturday prompt on tumblr:

_Your ship is surviving the zombie apocalypse with a group of people. While on a supply mission, the group is surprised by zombies. After the conflict, Person A pulls Person B aside to reveal they have been bitten. How does Person B react?_

**warning: **slight gore & character death

* * *

"Band-aids." She murmurs to herself, the note in her hand barely legible after being crumpled and folded so many times. She shoves it down into her pocket as she browses the dusty isles in search of the last item needed on her list.

The eerie darkness of the store adds to her growing caution. The only sounds are the faded brushing her groups shoes against the worn tiles as they collect from their own lists, and her quiet breathing. Anything else that interrupts these sounds are going to be considered threats.

She spots the band-aids, knocking as many boxes available into her bag. No sense leaving anything behind; they're just going to clean out the place and move on. It's not like the place was an actually gold mine. The shelves were already near empty before they even got there, obviously been wiped through by others.

Pulling the last box off the shelf, she's met with the gaze of Jean's brown eyes on the other side. He looks at her and smirks, chuckling softly.

"Band-aids." She responds, holding up the box.

"Aspirin." He holds up the bottle, the pills rattling inside.

She smiles at him, and for a moment everything shuts out. The constant fear, the exhaustion, the hunger…it all fades when she's with Jean. It's like a breath of fresh air; a dream that pulls her away from everything, if only for a little while. He's funny, and serious, and just _loveable_.

He strolls around the isle and ends up beside her, leaning against the shelf casually. She eyes him wearily. Considering the amount of toppled over shelves in the store, it appears that they aren't in the best condition, and who knows how much weight it can withstand.

"So, what else was on your list?" She asks as she zips up her backpack and slings it over her shoulder.

"Ah…well, you know, gauze, antibiotics…condoms." He smirks at the end and her face feels like it's on fire.

"W-what?" She sputters, "Seriously?"

He laughs at her expression, shoving his crumpled list into her hands, "Not joking! Someone actually wrote it down. Wasn't me, I swear."

"Oh _sure_," She remarks, trying to rebound for how flustered she was acting.

Though they haven't done anything yet, they've talked about this stuff before. But that was alone, in serious conversation. She wasn't used to joking about anything of the sort yet, especially not with him for some reason. It was awkward.

He was about to say something, his mouth open, ready to form words, when a shout breaks the moment. An anguished yell that embodies fear.

In a moment Mikasa is there, ready to engage.

In another moment, they're everywhere.

Swarmed; trapped like animals in a pen.

But that wont do, she won't allow that.

Pulling her double blades from their slings at her sides, she dives into the start of the swarm, their holey, half-decayed bodies lunging for her. At the sight of her in action, everyone snaps out of the funk they were in and joins, slashing away, dropping the undead like flies.

She ends up back-to-back with Eren, their movements as in-sync as their unspoken relationship; tight knit and easy. He moves one way, she goes the other. They can tell one another's next action without even discussing it. Together, as a team, they are unstoppable.

A middle-aged zombie ambles out of her preferable vision. She turns to take it on, the stench of him hitting her nose. He's slow; one of his ankles is snapped right off, dragging behind him as he tries to mobilize. She's not sure what's more horrifying; the fact that they can still operate under such horrible conditions, or the extreme motivation they have to do it.

Her blades swing, decapitating him with ease. The head rolls to his left as the rest of him drops to the floor.

For a second she's too distracted by the zombie she killed, she doesn't even notice the other one behind it until it pins her against one of the shelves, its contents spilling around them. He wheezes as he pushes his face to hers, his rotten, yellowed teeth snapping just inches from her nose. They have a horrible smell, but up close and personal his stench is enough to bring tears to her eyes and make her cough. With all her might she struggles to push him back, her small hands pressed against his black shirt. She thinks she's just about done for when a baseball bat flattens the side of his head like a pancake and he falls to the floor, his body landing with a _thump_.

Dead. Gone permanently. Where once there was a unity between the two, there now is a difference. "Dead" isn't a phrase anymore. Nothing dies. You're either gone or you're not. There is no death.

On the other end of the bat, Eren stares at her with wild eyes, his expression panicked. She's shaken up, but nods at him, assuring him through body language that she's okay. It's not the first time she's come across a close call. She's fine. Just another nightmare to add to the pile.

In a matter or minutes, the group has dealt with all of them. They sweep the store, checking for any hidden ones lurking in shadows, knobby fingers ready to grab you and tear you apart. They like to hang back in shadows and drift off, reanimating whenever someone walks by like a motion sensor.

For the most part, everyone is okay. Armin tripped mid-fight on a fallen zombie, hurting his ankle. It isn't sprained or anything, just sore, he said. She hopes it won't slow them down on the way back to camp.

Eren said they poured in from a back door they had missed. Most were wearing employee uniforms and name tags, so they must have been lurking somewhere in the back, animating when the rest came in. Just an unfortunate thing that you couldn't avoid, he supposed.

She practically runs to Jean, nervous. He looks fine, albeit a bit pale. Blood splatters his jacket, but she's sure she pretty much looks to the same, so she doesn't take note of it. He smiles at her, but its weak, but she doesn't even notice. She doesn't notice the look in his eyes.

After, they finished the sweep and left. The sight and smell of the bodies was too much and everyone just wanted to get out of there. About two blocks away from camp, they stopped to scrounge in a convenience store. They circle the store twice, wanting to be sure its clean of all threats. When it does, they split up and browse the store.

She thumbs through the greeting cards, reading the funny ones in attempts to cheer herself up. All it does is make her more disgruntled. It's like a huge piece of the past. One of the many trivial things on the ever growing list of stuff they had to give up, back when the most worrying thing was which card to get.

Jean comes up behind her, his voice hoarse, "Mikasa."

She turns, and he looks worse than before. He's really pale and his breathing is heavy and slow. It's a red flag; a sign that should have gone off in her head, but doesn't.

"Jean?" She says, a bit too loudly.

He sways and stumbles forward, practically landing on her. She shuffles him half up against the row of cards half strung around her, his arm slung around her neck. The sleeve lifts up, revealing a deep hole where a hunk of flesh has been torn away. Even then, she doesn't believe it, refuses to acknowledge it.

She slowly lowers him to the floor, and with shaking hands pulls the sleeve up to his elbow, examining the bite.

"You're hurt, Jean." Her voice wavers, the dots still not connecting, "You're hurt."

"I'm so sorry, Mikasa." His tone is throaty and wet and that's when the gears turn and she starts to panic.

"You're bleeding! We need to help you!" She rips her backpack off her shoulder, fumbling with the zipper. She pulls a role of medical tape and gauze from her bag when Jean's bloodied hands land on top of hers, stopping her. "You need help!"

"No, Mikasa." His voice is soft and reprimanding.

She looks at him, her vision beginning to blur with the tears. Her whole being begins to shake and it feels like the walls are collapsing into her. He's been bitten. He's not coming back. He's dying.

"Jean." His name fumbled from her tongue.

"I'm so sorry," He repeats, his tone soft, "So, so sorry."

She gathers him up into her arms, her tears staining his clothes. Everything's spinning. The world is ending. He's dying. He's dying. He's dying. She's losing him.

"Guys?" Someone calls. She can't tell who through the ringing in her ears.

"He's been bit!" Another person shouts.

Everyone circles, their faces horrified. Someone tries to pry him away from her but she screams, so they stop. She holds him tight against her, but he's slipping away and she can feel it with all her being. He's dying. He's dying, oh God, he's dying.

"Mikasa." Someone says gently against her ear. Eren. "Mikasa, we have to leave him. It's the pact."

His hand lands on her shoulder but she's so numb. She grips Jean tighter, her eyes locked into his. He smiles weakly at her and she swallows.

"Hey," He whispers, "Its okay."

But it's not.

He's dying. He's dying. He's dying.

"Mikasa," Eren begins.

"NO!" She yells at him. She's never raised her voice towards him, not once. "No."

Jean's hand presses to her cheek, his fingers brushing the tears away, but more form and drip into his palm. His skin is warm and cold and tingles and she's loosing him, she can feel him fading.

"Let go."

And then he does.

He's gone.

She panics, shaking him, calling his name, but he's gone.

Someone pulls him away and she screams again, but Eren holds her back. They silence Jean with a knife to the base of his neck, assuring he won't turn.

In that moment, the words "gone permanently" floats around in her mind. He's gone. He's dead. There is no difference; they aren't relevant anymore. In this new world, there is only absence.

You are erased no matter which way you go.

* * *

**Notes: **_Its been so long since I've published anyone on . I took down all my old stuff at one point, I guess, because its all gone. I'm hoping to keep the account going by putting up things I'm particularily proud of. _

_Feel free to follow my writing blog on Tumblr, as well: superdumbwritingblog_

_-Em_


End file.
